


only the cause and end of movement

by inklesspen



Series: canyons of steel and light [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Background Vriska (Vriska), Closet Sex, Dave Strider's Grasp of the Sports, First Time Blow Jobs, Interspecies Awkwardness, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trolls on Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1917549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklesspen/pseuds/inklesspen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the game of gay xenochicken there are no losers, which explains why you are currently trying to stick your hands down Sollux's pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	only the cause and end of movement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [querulousArtisan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/querulousArtisan/gifts).



> Worldbuilding notes are linked on the series page, in case you're interested.

You've been spinning discs for about an hour at this college party, throwing up a steady mix of house standards before you decide to treat them to the good stuff. Unfortunately, you barely get two minutes into Alminem Berry Crunch (wherein the sweet stylings of Messrs Yankovic and Shady join Gio Volpe's forest nymph) before your audience rebels. A gruff troll with muscles all the way up to here jacks his freaky bionic mp3 player into the sound system and informs you your services will no longer be required. The danger of being an artistic genius, you decide, is that you rarely meet anyone who can appreciate the full impact of your work.

But hey, it's not like you don't have a backup plan. You are so prepared that even your backup plans have backup plans, in some kind of weird three-way of preparedness. When they make the movie of your life, this is where the cute island girl comes to hang on your arm and the two of you show these bluebloods how to really make some moves. In the movie, the music would also be something you can actually dance to, not this atonal drone that sounds like it's supposed to unlock your chakras or some shit like that. As you bemoan the universe's lack of cinematic integrity, Jade continues discussing the finer points of cholerbear hybridization with her fellow xenobiology students. Seems like you still aren't getting back together.

Well, maybe you can work on your photojournalism project. You grab your bag and find a mostly-empty closet to load your camera. You've been making your own emulsions for the last month and you've got the process down to a science by now, but you still haven't been able to rig up a completely light-proof cartridge, so dark closet it is.

You have the new film out of the bag and halfway into the camera when the door opens. Light floods in, instantly fogging up your film. You blink at the silhouettes for just a moment before one of them shoves the other one on top of you and slams the door shut. There's a burst of red and blue light as the other person uses what are clearly psionic powers to flip the fuck right over you and land in a crouch in what passes for the other half of this tiny walk-in closet. Behind you, there's a quiet click as the door latch slides into place.

You put your gear back in the bag to sort out later. Nonchalantly, you lean back against the door. It's a flimsy enough thing; one roundhouse kick would get you out, but you don't feel like using up your host's damage deposit right now. That's the sort of thing that would make people think twice about hiring you. Plus, it's not even your problem; it was the other guy who got shoved in here.

You check your phone. No signal, and even if you did have signal, there's no guarantee Jade would read your text anytime soon. You decide to open negotiations. "Hell of a party," you offer.

The other guy chuckles. "Sorry about your camera," he says. There's something about his pronunciation -- nearly a lisp -- that would tell you he's a troll even if you hadn't figured it out from the little light show earlier. Jade told you once it's because troll mouths weren't really optimized for speaking human-style languages. You had told her you preferred communicating through the subtle medium of ill beats, and apparently she hadn't been able to pick between punching you and kissing you, because she'd done both.

You're distracted from this pleasant little reminiscence by the other guy introducing himself. "Sollux Captor, computer god," he says, and isn't he humble.

"Dave Strider, savant of swag," you reply. "Don't worry; there'll be time for autographs later."

"Right," he snorts. "Well, I'm in no rush to go back out there. It's actually not that bad in here. Nice and quiet and I don't have to get shoved around because Vriska fucking Serket's trying to pitch-flirt with my moirail."

You know offhand about troll romance; there's no shortage of 4chan memes about it, for one thing, and you know your Bro claims to be "in pale" with their queen or whatever, though he's probably just fucking with you again. This is actually the first time it's ever been even halfway relevant to your life, though. "So she's trying to be a jerk to your girlfriend or whatever, and that's why she shoved you in here?" Yes, that is probably a 100% accurate way to sum things up. You are the cultural expert; it's you.

"Close enough," Sollux says. He pulls a something from his pockets -- a phone, by the look of it -- pokes at it a bit, and then puts it back. He must not be getting any signal in here either.

"So does your hategirlfriend go shove Vriska in a closet now? Or how does that work?" Your eyes are beginning to adjust to the light by now; that and the spindly dude opposite you keeps putting on his own personal Kirlian lightshow like he's in Troll Cirque du Soleil.

Sollux shrugs. "Don't actually have one," he says. "Just Aradia in my quadrants right now. It's not that bad, really. I get more programming done this way. What about you, any quadrantmates at this party to harass Vriska for locking you in with me?"

He seems a decent enough guy, so you give him the minimum-bullshit story of how you and Jade met (crossed orders at a goddamn Starbucks of all places), moved in with each other, and then broke up. "We're still friends," you hasten to add. "In fact, she's at this party right now." You're not sure why you said that.

You take turns telling about your lives; about growing up with your Bro, about growing up an alien on Earth after the ceasefire, about your hobbies and your college majors and what it's like to be able to flashstep or move things with your mind. Occasionally you lapse into companionable silences. Sollux is actually kind of cool, you decide.

"You know what would be funny?" Sollux asks. "If we go out there and make them all think we're quadranted now."

"It'd be great to see the looks on their faces," you acknowledge, and if you're just a little bit hoping Jade would be jealous, well, you've got a right.

"Plus, then we've both got an excuse to ditch this snoozefest," he notes, and you can just sense him daring you to pretend you're eager to chug PBR and talk about sportball with people like Vriska or that jackass muscletroll who cut you off.

"I'm in," you say with a grin. "But do you even know how to act like you've got a date? I better show you how to fake it."

"Oh Mr. Strider sir, can you teach me how to do the kiss? I've never done it before," Sollux says breathlessly, and you both crack up.

You both stand up. There's just enough room in the closet to not be falling over each other. You push Sollux up against the wall and lean in to kiss him. He's taller than you, which is new, but not too tall; you don't have to get on your tippytoes like a schoolgirl. No, this is a perfectly normal manly fake-interspecies-relationship kiss like they taught you back at the academy. You're gonna make your sergeant proud today, Strider.

Wow, he's actually pretty good at this! His tongue pushes into your mouth and holy shit you are frenching an alien guy in a closet, holy shit. STRIDER wants to learn the move TONGUE-BATTLE FOR DOMINANCE but he is too busy making out because it's been so long and you're having a great time. He's got his arms around you, pulling you into him and if you weren't wearing a shirt, you're pretty sure he'd be leaving scratches. Fuck. You didn't think it was going to be this hot. You pull away to catch your breath.

Sollux looks wary, "Are you going to flip your human shit, Dave? They say most of you are only interested in the opposite gender, but you seemed pretty into it to me." Aww, he does care.

"Don't you worry about me," you reassure him. "I'm adept at playing for both teams. Here I am, flash-stepping between the sports bases. All the refs are mystified. 'How does he do it', they ask. 'Is there no stopping him,' they plead." Yeah, that's not going anywhere helpful. "Here, lemmie show you." In the game of gay xenochicken there are no losers, only winners, which explains why you are currently trying to stick your hands down Sollux's pants.

"Holy shit," he exclaims. "You're going all in on this authenticity thing. Don't toy with my heart, Dave. Or my junk; don't toy with my junk either."

"Come on, dude, you can't tell me you're not getting hard or whatever it is your species does. That's not even on the table right now," you inform him as you undo his pants zipper. Apparently whatever his species does is straight-up tentacle cocks, as you find out almost immediately. "What," you offer intelligently.

"I don't know, man, you tell me," Sollux replies. "You're the expert on all this team-playing, aren't you?" His junk-tentacle squirms in your hand as if for emphasis. Time to up your game. You drop to your knees.

You know you remember -- kinda -- what Jade used to do when she went down on you and you figure you anything you don't remember you can pick up on the fly. Sollux doesn't have any pubic hair, really. There's something like super-short whiskers surrounding his cock, nothing long enough to even start to curl. Underneath the tentacle he's got something that looks kinda like a pussy. You figure you'll tackle that one later.

Here goes nothin', you think as you take the snake-tongue tip of his dong into your mouth. You suck a little on the end of it, try to curl your tongue around it like two appendages giving each other a businesslike handshake. Just playing with the tip like this seems to get him going. Sollux whimpers just a little bit and his dick flexes in your mouth like, well, a tentacle. Jerking off must be a genuine art form for trolls, you think, because you've got to do some straight-up blowjob gymnastics to keep his dick in your mouth. You open your mouth a little and get a bit more of him in, moving your tongue all over it. He tastes a bit like the air smells after a thunderstorm; not actually rainy, but like something electrical. "Hn, yeah, keep going," he mutters. See, you're good at this.

You decide to take the whole thing in; you've seen this done before in videos, right? As you draw more and more of his cock in, you start to feel a tingling in your mouth. It goes away when you back off, and when you grab the base of his cock you can feel the tingling that way too. It actually feels kind of good in your mouth, so you take it all in. His cock thrashes around inside you, hitting your uvula. "Gkkk," you say as you instinctively pull back.

"No, don't stop," Sollux insists, and the way his dick is twining in your face is hard to resist. Okay, so maybe leave the deep throating for next time, but you're both having a good time here. You grab the base of his dick again, as much to keep it under control as to keep it from getting too far in. This time you keep pressing on his dick with your tongue; he really liked that last time. Since their junk moves on its own, you figure trolls don't have to thrust the way humans do, so pressure is probably a better way to go than bobbing up and down on it. You keep toying with the tip with your tongue. The tingling is all over the lining of your mouth now; not like a numbness, more like his dick is giving off tiny little sparks. Sollux has gone genuinely nonverbal now. He's chirring, and that's almost more alien than the face full of tentacle dong you have, but it doesn't seem like he wants you to stop.

You keep putting pressure on his dick with your tongue and cheeks, and it feels like the tingling is building up like static electricity. You have no idea what it's like when a troll comes or if you'd even be able to tell. Sollux's chirring is interspersed with more human-like grunts; you feel proud as hell that you're making him enjoy this so much, even if you're not sure how to get him all the way off. There's a weird glow in the air, like his psi-lights are suffusing out to fill the closet.

There's no actual come when he does come; one minute it's chirr and glow, the next he lets out this loud chirp and a bright flash and your mouth is filled with this kind of sour, tangy taste. Sollux lets out a long sigh and falls back against the closet wall. Damn, are you good or what? You go to wipe your face with one sleeve, but apart from the sweat you're clean. "Hey, man," you say, "don't keep me in suspense here. How was I?"

"Get over yourself," he says playfully. He tugs up his jeans and you do up his zipper for him, like a sexy manservant or something. "But yeah, I think we can convince people we hooked up. Unless you wanna go back for a second round," he offers, eyebrows waggling.

"Take me out for dinner first," you retort. "I'm classy and I deserve to be romanced." You start to rattle off an intricate metaphor involving a steakhouse maître d', two butlers, and Michael Jordan of the Chicago Bulls, but Sollux brushes past you and flips open the latch with a spark of his psionics.

"Come on, classy guy," he insists. "Let's get the hell out of here." You link arms with him and stroll out together. So classy.


End file.
